Plastic Society
Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries,
but the difference is
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin.
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement
is motionless because your passion
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology
that manifests into something specific
obtaining a manual manipulation.
A self servant visibility is indicative
of an egocentric personality and everything insinuated
to be perceptually believed as sacred
usually doesn't leave further than the tapping of your fingers.
You proselytize by regurgitating the ways
of a preferred deity and establish yourself
by turning your mirror to reflect the angle
of how you want to be seen and adjust your thoughts
for a higher seat in your vanity
in order to possess everything in your hypocrisy.
The feedback you get initiates a sedimentary mask
you proudly wear and give a name to because
as a statuesque representative in an upscale consumption
of physical and mindful gluttony,
it is the exemplary rock to inscribe your identity.
You disguise it as spirituality, enlightenment, or awareness
labeling it as politics, religion, parenting, racism,
abortion, extortion, activism, or sexism.
It does not, in anyway, alleviate
the struggling strong minded from with holding their weeps
on garments bled by friends in unsung tongues and private sin,
in time well spent where the secrets
of the heart are kept for keeps rather than exposed and disposed of
in a widespread generic documentary
for the world to see the effects of their warfare.
Where words of vulnerability and exposed nerves
are perceived as nothing but memes and black sheep
trying to be shepherds making lists of things
to better humanity in articles utilized by a machine.
As if the top ten life hacks will take neglcted children
out of the slums of a poor shack
and stop the hateful attacks on those who need welfare.
The bandaging by labeling and over medicating
will not eradicate the urgent need for eye to eye,
flesh to flesh, heart to heart
laughing, kind, grateful, melting of this
plastic society.
Copyright © Mindy Clay | Year Posted 2016
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